


something wicked

by themundaneweirdo



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Billy And Max Are Married, Billy And Steve Being Friends, Billy Being A Little Emotional, Domestic Fluff, El And Will Are Fraternal Twins, F/M, Gay Will Byers, Gen, Hawkins Police Department, Hopper is a GREAT DAD, Missing Persons, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Police Officer Billy Hargrove, Police Officer Steve Harrington, Semi-Graphic Sex, Steve And Billy Are Friends, Tommy Is Going To Get His Shit Fucked Up, Waitress Maxine “Max” Mayfield, discussion of miscarriage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-08-11 19:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20158939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themundaneweirdo/pseuds/themundaneweirdo
Summary: “Anything exciting happen today?”, Max asks.“Not really. Some girl is missing, but–““Missing?”





	1. Friday, September 13, 1991

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go...

_7:27 AM_

**Name: Joan Marie Horne**

**Color: white**

**Sex: female**

**Age: 16**

**Eye Color:**

“What’s her eye color, Diane?”

“Blue, her eyes are blue.”

Hopper grunts and nods as his fingers dance across the typewriter on his desk. He’s a little groggy, his eyes are blurring every few blinks, and he’s struggling to hold in yawns. 

Diane Horne came barging into the police station just half an hour away, sputtering something about her daughter being missing as the school called to ask if she was sick at home. Hopper doubts it, she’s probably at some boys house or is skipping school. The girl being missing isn’t likely, so it’s not Hopper’s main concern.

He’s running on a two cups of coffee and maybe a few hours of sleep because Joyce kept tossing and turning the night before. He’s cranky and irritable, and dealing with a hysterical and over dramatic mother isn’t exactly what he wants to be doing. He’s fighting fatigue and the urge to kick Diane out as he’s typing up a missing persons report he knows he’ll probably trash soon.

“Diane,” he sighs and leans back in his chair. “Are you sure she’s missing? She might be at her boyfriend's house or something.

Diane Horne’s thinly plucked eyebrows shoot high on her powered forehead. “Joan doesn’t have a boyfriend. If she did, I would know.”

Yeah, right. It’s pretty similar to when El was sixteen and she most definitely did _not_ sneak off to Mike Wheeler's house at night when Hopper worked late. She most definitely did _not_ have a boyfriend, too.

Hopper rubs at his forehead and closes his eyes to think a moment. Teenagers are sneaky when they want to be, he knows because he’s endured it three times with his own kids. El, his only girl, was the sneakiest, she was quieter and quicker than Jonathan or Will ever was.

“Teenage girls can be secretive.”

Diane scoffs and glares at Hopper with her droopy brow eyes. “Are you implying that I don’t know my daughter?”

“No,” Hopper argues and and sits up again. “I’m just saying, I know my daughter got into trouble at this age, and I just want to rule out the idea that maybe Joan has just skipped school or ran off with a boy.”

Her face twists up like she’s sour mouthed and she leans forward to say, “I just want you to do your job and find my daughter.”

Hopper feels his blood pressure rise to an unhealthy level. He tells himself to calm down, he’s got to be the calm one in this situation, but he so badly wants to show Diane the door. He feels it itching in the back of his mind to kick her out of the station and ban her from coming back, missing daughter or not.

“Tell you what,” Hopper says while gritting his teeth. “I’ll finish this report and send my best officers out to check the area around your house to check off the possibility of her skipping or running off. Sound good?”

She nods her head in a tense movement, her silver blonde hair not even flinching as it's probably hair sprayed down.

He stands and shows her the door out of his office, she’s grabbing her purse with her perfectly manicured hands and shoving it on her shoulder. Her mutely heels click against the carpeted floor as she struts, literally struts, our of his office and into the main area.

She exits the building without speaking to Hopper, probably because she’s too good to speak to the police Chief that’s going to look for her stupid, ignorant teenage daughter. Her head is held high like she didn’t just disrespect Hopper in his own work place. Maybe the door will hit her on the way out.

Once he’s waved Diane off as she backs out of the stations parking in her overly nice car, Hopper heads straight to the bullpen to do as he promised. Send his best officers out to check the area.

“Harrington, Hargrove. Head down to Oakridge Road and check around the Horne’s house for anything that could suggest that their daughter could’ve snuck out,” he barks while passing to go straight to his office. “Report back here when you’re done.”

“Uh, Chief?”

He pauses just outside his office door as Steve speaks up, fidgeting in his blue uniform and a little nervous as he does so. “Hargrove isn’t here yet. He’s late.”

Hopper sighs and curses, going into his office and immediately reaching for his phone.

_7:55 AM_

Billy is sitting at his dinner table with his blue officer shirt hanging loosely around his shoulders while he looks at a newspaper. He’s already dressed in his pants and boots, belt and holster on. He knows his hat is in the car.

He woke up a little late, just by twenty minutes because he forgot to set his alarm the night before. It doesn’t help that he didn’t fall asleep until around three in the morning as Zeppelin was fussy and wouldn’t quiet down until he was allowed to sleep in the bed with Billy and Max. They got four hours of sleep at the most, and they’re still lagging.

He sips his mug of coffee that Max made for him. She’s already stirred some creamer in it and a few packets of sugar for good measure. Just how he likes it. She pours a cup for herself, setting in on the table just far enough so it won’t be knocked over.

“Coffee’s good,“ he says while glancing at her.

Max smiles at him while setting the hot coffee pot back on the burner before pouring a small amount of Cheerios on Zeppelin’s high chair tray and sitting on the other side of the table, facing Billy. She’s already in her blue diner dress and her beautiful hair is pulled back away from her face, her red name tag shiny under the overhead light.

Billy is reading a small article about Mayor Kline wanting to rebuild downtown Hawkins, even though he was the one who insisted they invest in a huge shopping mall. That alone destroyed so many jobs, put so many people in bad positions, and now, years later, he wants to fix it. Typical.

He’s turning the newspaper page when a Cheerio is thrown at him. Billy looks over the paper to find his son grinning like a cat, gummy and slobbery. Zeppelin is shoving more of the cereal in his mouth and acting like he didn’t just throw one at his father.

“Did you throw that at me?” Billy asks with a slight smile to his face. “Are you trying to hurt your daddy?”

Zeppelin giggles behind his small hands while slobber gathers in the corners of his mouth. His little chubby fingers grip the small cereal bits and cram them into his mouth, chewing sloppily. 

The house phone ringing breaks the peaceful quietness, and Max rushes to answer it.

“Hello?,” she happily answers the phone. “Yes, yes, he’s right here.”

She holds the phone out for Billy, and he stands to meet her halfway for it. He puts the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hargrove.”

It’s Hopper. And, he doesn’t sound too happy. _Shit_.

“Yes, sir?,” Billy tries.

“Get your ass down here to the station now. You and Harrington have a job to be doing.”

With that, the line goes dead and Billy hangs the phone up. He better be lucky Hopper didn’t have the energy to threaten to fire him. He’s been on the end of one of those talks, and they aren’t fun at all.

Billy silently buttons up his open shirt and tucks it in while Max smiles a little at him. She knows how Hopper can be, and she tries to be encouraging to Billy.

“Gotta go,” Billy sighs before kissing her lips briefly and then Zeppelin’s head. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Be safe.”

He nods while taking his coat off the rack and trudging out the front door to his police care. He throws his jacket in and revs the engine before backing out, not giving his heater any time to ward off the fall air.

He’s regrettably late for work, and if he still wants his job, he better get there as fast as he can.

_9:58 AM_

“That was a pretty bad talking to you got back there,” Steve says to Billy while they ride down the expanse of Oakridge Road.

Billy nods and sighs, squinting to see the house at the very end of the road. The Horne’s house.

“Yeah, well, I was late. I’m surprised he didn’t do worse.”

Steve nods to agree and looks down at the floorboard for a moment or two. He’s always been the most sympathetic out of all the officers at the station, the first one to fall for a sob story and last one to be in on all the jokes. He’s always fell short by one step or two.

“It could’ve been worse,” he offers to Billy.

Billy nods and they pull into the Horne driveway, passing a nice white mailbox that says _Horne_. He and Steve were supposed to be out here a while ago, but he was running late and Hopper felt the need to flame his ass before sending them out.

Both officers step out of the car and walk up to the porch of the beautiful, almost _too_ beautiful house. Billy knocks on the door with a heavy hand that he knows Steve doesn’t have, and the door opens a moment later. A woman with silvery blonde hair and a pinched mouth answers.

“You must be the officers,” she says while her eyes briefly glance at Steve before taking her time to look at Billy.

Yeah, he’s used to that, and if he was younger, he might’ve preened under the suggestive stare. But now, twenty-four and married, he’s not so appreciative. It makes his stomach role.

“That’s us,” Steve confirms while shoving his hands in his pockets, an awkward smile on his face.

Mrs. Horne moves aside, her moment of free looking over, and allows them to come into her house. Her husband, a slightly chubby and balding man that looks to be ten years older than herself, is sitting in a recliner while reading the newspaper. He’s seems unbothered by the fact that his wife put in a missing persons report for their daughter and there’s too officers in his home.

“Nice place you got here, Mrs. Horne.”

She smiles and nods to Steve. “Thank you, Officer...?”

“Oh, Harrington, ma’am,” Steve offers happily, bouncing on his feet behind Billy.

“Yes. Well, her room is upstairs, last door to the right. Can’t miss her door.”

The officers start up the stairs, Steve behind his tougher counterpart, and they go straight for the girls room. _Can’t miss her door_ is right, it covered in band posters and magazine clippings. Total rebel child in a white collar family, Billy would bet money on that.

Her room is clean despite her doors appearance. Her bed has obviously been slept in as its unmade and the blankets are thrown about, but everything else is neat and unsuspicious. Organized desk, nicely hung clothes in her closet, folded clothes in her drawers. Nothing is out of the ordinary.

Billy checks all her windows while Steve takes a look under her bed for any strange things, only for them to have nothing new to share. It’s a simple teenagers room, nothing wrong or eye catching.

“Her school bag isn’t here,” Steve notes. 

“Mrs. Horne said she had it when she got on the bus. She probably took it with her if she skipped school so it wouldn’t be obvious.”

“No clothes missing either.”

They head back stairs and Billy asks to check the property around the house or anything odd. Steve follows him out of the house and they search every square foot of the area until they’re sure there isn’t one single thing out of line. Nothing is wrong or missing or even slightly out of place. 

Billy really doesn’t know what to think. Usually, when he snuck out, there was always something his dad could sense. It could’ve been the noise of sticks breaking under his feet in the yard or the rev of his engine before he sped off. But, there’s nothing to note at the Horne’s.

Steve is saying goodbye to Mrs. Horne while Billy starts up the car, and he can just make out the way her face falls as Steve steps off the porch. She’s obviously very worried about her daughter, even if she struggles to show it at times, and he sincerely hopes that the girl is just skipping school and not actually missing. God forbid something like that happened in Hawkins.

“Well,” Steve sighs while slamming his door shut and throwing his had on the dashboard. “Guess we have to tell Hopper that we found nothing.”

“Mhm.”

Billy waits until Mrs. Horne is in her home before backing the car out of the driveway. He high tails it out of there while the thought of uncertainty fills his head. 

_Where is she?_

_8:19 PM_

Billy’s feet feel like weights as he walks up the steps of his front porch. He’s so tired and he’s fighting to keep his eyes open just to even open the front door in the dim porch light. Struggles to turn the key and push the door open and his eyes strain to adjust to the one lamp on in the living room.

Hopper assigned him almost every little call that came in the station after he and Steve returned from the Horne’s home. He was sent out for anything that ranged from a wild dog to little kids stealing garden gnomes from Mrs. Driscoll’s garden. He’s been all over the town all day, and more than once was looked up and down by some forty-something year old house wife that was desperate for attention.

It was humiliating, but he doubts he’ll be so easy to let himself be late without calling in ahead of time.

Max is sitting in his recliner while rocking Zeppelin to asleep. He’s wrapped up in a soft yellow blanket, sedated and sweet in her arms. She’s wearing her pajamas, one of Billy’s old band shirts and a pair of cotton shorts, and her hair is in a side braid.

“You look tired,” she says simply, continuing to rock their son in her arms.

Billy chuckles airily and locks the front door. “I got my ass chewed out when I got to the station.”

“I can only imagine.”

He grins while walking toward Max and leaning down to kiss her once he’s close to the chair. She smells like she’s already got a shower, which Billy can’t imagine was easy without someone watching their ten month old. Her hair is still damp when he touches it.

“Anything exciting happen today?”, Max asks.

“Not really. Some girl is missing, but–“

_“Missing?”_

Max is looking at him like he’s grown a second head. He supposes a missing girl isn’t what she expecting him to stay.

“Hop doesn’t think she’s actually missing,” Billy explains while stripping off his blue shirt and throwing it over the arm of the couch. “Thinks she’s just staying with some boy.” 

“Have you looked into it?”

“Me and Steve checked the girls house. Nothing is leading Hopper to think she’s actually missing.”

Max goes still in the recliner and looks at him expectantly. “Where do you think she is?”

Billy sighs and rubs his eyes tiredly. He doesn’t know what he thinks because there isn’t any evidence that she’s truly missing, but there’s hardly any that points to her skipping school or bedding up with some boy. It’s strange to him, and he doesn’t want to dwell on it very much longer.

“I don’t know.”

She doesn’t push it after that. Zeppelin shifts and one of his chubby arms lay flat on her chest, and he yawns while his little nose crinkles. He goes still again, not making a peep.

“I think he’s ready for bed,” Max smiles and stands from the recliner. “And, you need to shower before you get in any bed with me.”

Billy grins and follows her down the hall to their bedroom. “Planned on it, boss.”

He showers quickly and climbs into bed after brushing his teeth and a trimming the hair on his face. Billy makes sure to set his alarm before curling around Max and their son nestled between them. It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep like that, but he has one last thought before all consciousness is lost.

He thinks of Joan Horne, and wherever she might be.


	2. Wednesday, September 18, 1991

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hopper’s cup of coffee is hot but cooling as it sets on his desk.

_8:58 AM_

Hopper’s cup of coffee is hot but cooling as it sets on his desk. Smells like creamer and steam is rising off the top. He sips it a few times while looking over all the papers spread on his desk.

It’s been a few days since the missing report for Joan Horne has been submitted, and at first, he was convinced she had just skipped school like any teenager would. Days began to roll over and it became very apparent that she might really be missing. Hopper will has his doubts, but he’s keeping an open mind.

Harrington and Hargrove found nothing at the Horne residence that may lead one to believe she’s ran away, but she also didn’t show for school the last day her mother saw her. It’s a lot to take in in a small town where everyone knows everyone. The possibility of having a kidnapper on their hands isn’t welcomed with open arms anywhere, but especially not Hawkins.

Hopper and his officers have spoken to nearly every person they can possibly think of that would have seen or heard from Joan beforehand, but nothing is connecting the dots. All they have is a missing persons report, a distressed mother, and not a single damn lead.

He sighs and throws whatever paper he’s reading down. The day hasn’t even begun and he already feels a headache forming. 

There’s a knock at his door before Flo enters and places something on his desk while saying, “Just came in, Chief. Might want to look at it.”

Usually, he would push whatever petty complaint Flo gets aside until he can find the time to give a shit, but something in her voice wavers. Sounds a little off like the slip of paper might be interesting. Or disturbing.

She goes back to her own desk as he picks up the note to read it.

_Floyd Summers dropped this off and said he found it in his mailbox, says he thinks it might be some kids trying to scare him._

Hopper crumples Flo’s note and throws it the trash can before picking up the picture attached. It’s a street, nothing else in sight, and he can just make out the street name. _Chapel Drive_. He turns it over and there’s writing on the back in red ink.

this road of pain will never end.

“The Hell?,” he says under his breath.

If he remembers correctly, Floyd Summers lives on Chapel Drive, the same street in the photo. It would seem harmless if not for the strange writing in bright red ink. He flips the picture a few times to make sure he isn’t missing anything before letting it sit in his hands.

He could go out with two officers to check in on old Summers and ask him a few questions. It would get Hopper out of the station and clear his mind for a while so he doesn’t focus on Joan Horne. 

_Fuck it._

He takes the photo and grabs his coat and hat on the way out of his office. He goes straight to the bullpen. All the officers look like their almost asleep.

Harrington is looking through the newspaper, Hargrove is playing cards with Powell. Callahan is nursing a half empty coffee mug. And, God knows what rookie Hart is doing while bent over his small desk. 

He puts his hat on while approaching the cluster of desks. Drops the photograph on Hargrove’s desk, right next to the framed picture of his wife and son. Hargrove frowns and lowers his cards.

“What’s this, Chief?”

“New complaint,” Hopper replies while putting on his coat. “You and Harrington are coming with me.”

Steve and Billy hustle to grab their things as Hopper points to his other officers. “Callahan, Powell. Go check on the Horne’s house. Make sure they know we’re working on the case.”

They nod their heads and head out without another word. Hargrove and Harrington are following close behind Hopper. Almost to the door when Tommy Hart speaks up.

“What should I do, Chief?”

Hart’s grinning like the idiot that he is, Hopper sincerely doesn’t understand why he hired him. Took him a lot longer than usual to finish the academy, graduated bottom of his class. He still acts like he’s eighteen in high school, just fucking around.

“You stay here and help Flo with papers,” Hopper says without a second thought and steps outside.

Callahan and Powell are already pulling out of the side parking and the other officers climb into their own car. Hopper jumps in his blazer. Revs the engine and gives the signal for the others to follow him.

He backs out of the parking and the car is close behind.

_9:16 AM_

Chapel Drive is quiet and foggy. It’s an old, cracked pavement road and the street sign looks like it’s about to fall off the post. Most of the residence are either at work or school, no domestic cars in any drive way or sign of life except for the occasional dog barking. 

It’s eery even in the morning light. 

“So this picture,” Steve says while looking at said photo in his hands. “It was just left in someone’s mailbox?”

“Mhm,” Hopper replies while eyeing Floyd Summers house just a few yards ahead.

It’s at the very end of the street, oldest on the road. He can still remember when it wasn’t sinking to the ground and the white paint wasn’t peeling off the wood. It’s decaying and falling apart at every edge, he can’t imagine why anyone would stay there.

He doesn’t understand why someone would leave a random photo in the mailbox of said house, either. Maybe to get a rise out of ole Floyd, he’s not the most sane person in Hawkins. 

Something about the writing sends red flags up in Hopper’s head, though. 

“Halloween’s next month,” Billy offers while shoving his hands in his pockets. “It could be some kids getting a head start.” 

Hopper shakes his head. “Doubtful. I don’t think any parents would let their kids stay out since a girls missing.”

There hasn’t been one pep rally or bond fire in Hawkins since Joan Horne has disappeared, barely any football games. It’s the middle of football season and the kids of the town have had to put their festivities on hold. There’s literally almost no chance of a bunch of teenagers coming all the way to the edge of town just to put some random photo in a mailbox for a joke.

Steve approach’s them, shoes on gravel, and hands the photo back to Hopper. He’s been studying it since they left the station, concentrating on it like something is going to change or shift. Spaced out.

“Does he have any enemies,” he asks while crossing his arms.

“Not that I know of. He’s an odd guy, but I doubt he could do any real harm.”

That’s not the complete truth, but not a complete lie. Floyd used to play football for the school back in the day, he was pretty rough and mean until someone on the opposite slammed his knee out of place in senior year. He’s had a limp since.

“Want me and Hargrove to check the back while you look out front?”

Hopper nods and shoves the photo in his pocket.

Billy and Steve head to the back after slipping through a barely held up wood fence, and they disappear from his sight. He steps into the front yard.

The grass is overgrown and dying with the fall weather coming in, yellowing patches. Weeds are growing in the cracks of the walkway and up the stairs of the front porch. The wood of the porch is rotten and it groans under Hopper’s weight. He worries it may cave in if he steps on a weak spot.

He doesn’t see anything that remotely concerns him, nothing out of the ordinary. No sign of forced entry, no vandalism, no nothing. It’s just an old house with an equally old porch that going to give out any day now.

Hopper’s shoulder mic statics for a moment before Billy’s voice crackles. _”Anything out front?”_

“No. You two find something?”

_”Maybe.”_

He frowns and steps off the porch to jog behind the house. He finds his officers standing over a small pile of trash that’s fallen out of an overflowing trash can. But, they’re looking at something behind the trash can.

He steps around and sees a camera, Polaroid to be exact. There’s an empty film container and the camera is broken, but it looks like it’s the most recent model. 

“You found a camera,” Hopper states.

“Mhm.”

He sighs and scratches his neck. “And what’s the significance?”

“What kind of picture was found in Floyd’s mailbox?”

Hopper pauses. A _Polaroid_ picture was found in his mailbox, probably taken from the broken camera at their feet.

“You think it’s the same?,” Hopper asks and hands the picture to Billy.

“Might be. You could probably go by Radio Shack and ask to see the sells catalog to see who purchased the model if you really want to be a good cop.”

Billy crouches and holds the edge of the photo to eject opening, and it unsurprisingly fits perfectly. The probability of this camera being Floyd’s isn’t all that big because he would never spend a lot of money on a camera. It has to be someone else’s.

Hopper snaps his fingers and nods at Billy. “You and Harrington head back to the station, I’ll take the camera to town and see if I can get any names.”

He collects the camera and walks back toward the front yard, his officers close behind. He sets the camera in his front seat and revs the engine as Billy steps up to his window.

“What you want me and Steve to do when we get back to the station?”

Hopper glances at Billy and the Steve before sighing. “Just, uh, take it easy. Work on the Horne case if you think you’ll be able to piece something together.”

Billy nods and steps away from the blazer and Hopper’s pulls out onto the main road to town. Billy and Steve climb into their car and are close behind before turning left to head toward station. 

_12:18 PM_

Billy is working on his third cup of coffee. His eyes hurt and his head is pounding after looking at the Joan Horne file for hours. It wouldn’t be that bad if he had accomplished something, but nothing has changed or added up differently.

There just isn’t any way to even attempt to create a lead to find the girl. She could be kidnapped, she could’ve ran away, or she could’ve joined a cult and now worships a man called Moonlord. Too many possibilities for a case with no leads.

He sits back in his chair and sighs. His ass is going numb from sitting still for so long, but he doesn’t have the energy to even go out and smoke. Mentally tired.

Steve is sitting close beside him at the edge of his own desk, twirling a pencil mindlessly in his hands. He’s spaced out, sort of like he was at Floyd Summers road, but it’s a little different this time. His eyes aren’t focused on a photo or a newspaper, he’s just staring at nothing in particular.

“You good, man?”

Steve’s head shoots go and he nods. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“You want to talk about it?”

Steve blinks slowly a few times and Billy can practically hear the cogs turning. Thinking, deciding on what to do. He slides his rolling chair closer till he’s almost invading Billy's personally space. Suddenly, the room seems quieter.

He glances around once and lowers his head a little. “We’re friends, right?”

Billy frowns. “I mean, yeah. We’re friends.”

“So what I say stays between us?”

Billy nods slowly, still frowning while trying to figure out what might possibly be about to come out of his coworkers mouth. 

“Good, good,” Steve says and then licks his lips and sighs. “It’s been, uh, almost two years since the... the thing, you know.”

Billy nods and his expression softens. The _thing_ being Robins miscarriage. Christmas Day of nineteen eighty nine was probably the saddest Christmas for them as it was spent in a cold hospital instead of at home, where they should’ve been.

“The anniversary bothering you?,” Billy asks.

“No. I mean, yeah, it’s always going to bother me, but that’s not what’s on my mind.” Steve sighs again. “Robins been talking about trying for a baby. She really, _really_ wants to try but I just...” 

Billy understands the uncertainty in his voice. He can’t imagine what losing a child feels like, and he doesn’t want to know, either. It makes him think about how empty he would be if Zeppelin had been ripped from life like that.

“I guess one part of me wants to give her what she wants, you know. I want to give her a baby, but the other part, I just don’t want the same thing to happen. I don’t think either of us could take that.”

Steve’s voice gets quiet on the last few words, but Billy doesn’t comment on it. He knows Steve is struggling with his thoughts and feelings and that’s okay. He’s not perfect, nobody should expect him to be.

He might be air headed at times and little uncoordinated, but Steve is a good guy. He deserves the best of everything in Billy’s opinion, and losing a child definitely wasn’t fair.

“Did you freak out when Zeppelin was born? I mean, having a baby is one thing but raising one is another.”

Steve’s rambling at this point but Billy gets it. Fatherhood is kind of scary. 

“I wouldn’t say I freaked out,” Billy replies, keeping his voice low because he knows Tommy is probably trying to snoop in on the conversation. “But, once I heard him screaming and crying for the first time, it felt like reality hit me.”

“Do you think you’re a good dad?”

Billy sighs and scratches at his stubbly cheek. “I reckon I am. Zepp’s not old enough to really complain yet, but I hope I’m doing my little boy some justice.”

Steve nods slowly and another question comes up his throat. “Do you think _I’ll_ be good a dad?”

His voice is soft and unsure, and it honestly breaks Billy's heart a little. 

“Yeah, I do. I really do,” Billy confirms while smiling softly. “Whatever you two do, I think you’ll be great.”

Steve smiles at the floor and nods his head when Billy pats his shoulder. That’s all the affection he’ll get from him anyway. Their friends, sure, but they are still grown men in their working environment.

Billy hopes that Steve and Robin get something worked out. He knows the discussion of a child is probably still sensitive to them even with the times that flown between then and now. Some wounds heal slower than others.

“Come on,” he tells Steve and stands from his seat. “We have lunch soon. _Lou-Ann’s_ sound good? I’ll pay.” 

Steve playfully scoffs and follows Billy out the bullpen. “You just want to see Max.”

“Yeah, well, you talking about your wife has got me missing mine.”

Billy pops his head in Hopper’s office to let him know two of his officers are taking their lunch break before they’re on their way to _Lou-Ann’s_.

_10:47 PM_

The bed is cool and soft under Billy as he lays down, shirtless and in pajama pants. His eyes are itchy, kind of dry, and his body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. He’s physically tired but his mind is still wide awake.

Zeppelin’s laying on his chest and is somewhat sleeping if the drool Billy feels is any good indication. He twitches sometimes or moves his head and sighs. His arms are curled up around his head and his legs funnily splayed over Billy’s ribs.

Billy lays one hand on his son’s back as he hears the shower turn off in the bathroom just next door. Max has been in there for the better part of half an hour, leaving him to be put on independent daddy duty. Not that he minds, or really has a choice.

She comes strolling into their bedroom with a towel wrapped around her. Her hair is still wet and sticking to her shoulders and there’s a blush across her cheeks from the steamy bathroom air. She throws smiles at him before digging through a drawer in their dresser.

“You look cozy,” Max says over her shoulder before shutting the drawer and laying her clothes on the dresser top.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Billy chuckles and lets his eyes slide over her body when she lets the towel drop. Looks over her bare back and ass, the side of her tit when she shifts a little. She’s gorgeous.

She pulls on a shirt and a pair of cotton panties and towel dries her hair a little. Throws it in the hamper near the closet door when she’s done. 

Max steps closer to the bed and jerks her head in the direction of their sleeping son. “I can take him to his room if you want.”

There’s a sharp glimmer in her eyes when she says it. She’s subtle, but not _too_ subtle. She knows what she wants and she knows how to get it, knows how to make Billy want it, too. 

Thing is, when he goes to shift his body so he can pick Zeppelin up off his chest, he’s reminded of the conversation he had with Steve earlier. The one about Robin and the baby. He’s reminded of the sadness in his coworkers eyes and the uncertainty in his voice when he spoke.

Billy shakes his head and lays down again. “Is it okay if we don’t do it tonight? I just want to hold him.”

Max’s eyes soften then and she nods. She knows Billy can get clingy at times, and she doesn’t push it. What she does push is his reasoning. 

“Did anything happen at work?”

She climbs into bed and lays down while waiting on him to answer. Stays quiet and lets him think.

“I guess,” he replies. “Nothing with a case, but Steve talked about Robin. And the baby.”

Max sighs a little at that. She remembers what happened. Steve called their house in the early morning hours of Christmas crying and asking Billy to go to the hospital because _I can’t do this, Billy, please just come sit with me_. 

She remembers feeling like shit when Billy came home hours later to say Robin lost the baby. Felt even shittier when she announced her own pregnancy the following March. She was one month along with Zeppelin, and Robin’s baby girl still should’ve been in her belly.

“What brought it up?”

“He said she’s been talking about trying again,” Billy says quietly. “But, he doesn’t think he’ll be a good dad.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “Bullshit. He’ll be perfect.”

He chuckles and agrees. Zeppelin squirms a little before lifting his head just enough to look around. He yawns and then lays his head back on Billy’s chest like nothing ever happened.

The baby yawning causes both Billy and Max to yawn. She giggles and reaches behind herself to turn off her night lamp before laying back down and moving closer to Billy. He’s warm and she’s cool.

They fall asleep soon after getting comfortable. Max tucked up to Billy’s side and Zeppelin unconsciously drooling on his chest. 

It’s quite possibly the best way to end the day in Billy’s opinion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of an experiment. The future of this fic depends on the response I get.
> 
> Good? Bad? Makes you want to stab your eyes out? (Probably)
> 
> Let me know in the comments! I love hearing from you guys! Please make sure to leave love and support in the comments and check out my tumblr @themundaneweirdo!
> 
> If you want to contact me speedy quick and get insight to the upcoming updates for the series, don’t be afraid to drop an ask in my askbox on Tumblr!
> 
> Join my Discord to share ideas and talk to me, along with other Maygrove shippers! https://discord.gg/Ys8HNpX
> 
> Comments are my fuel, so fill me up!


	3. Sunday, September 22, 1991

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The house is quiet this time of morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter really just gives a lot of background information about the characters, but there is a reason for this chapter! It’s all slowly coming together!

_6:19 AM_

The house is quiet this time of morning. The sun hasn’t come up yet and Hopper knows once it does, it won’t be much of a difference. News on the television says it’s going to be cloudy and cool today, dreary and definitely Hawkins fall weather.

He’s sitting on the couch and watching the news, shirtless and in his pajama pants. His hair is wild and he needs to trim his mustache a little as there is hairs beginning to curl into his mouth. He woke up a little earlier than he usually does, and instead of rolling around the bed and waking Joyce up, he retreated to the living room.

His sleeping pattern has gone a little hay wire since last Wednesday. The picture found at Floyd Summer’s house just bothers him for some reason. Rubs him the wrong way.

Hopper has tried several times to connect it to Joan Horne, but no matter how many times he tries, nothing adds up. They’re completely unrelated as far as he or his officers now, and there is no leads on either. The missing girl is obviously more important, but he can’t let the photo slide too far from his mind.

Maybe Hargrove or Harrington can figure something out. They’re both as sharp as whips.

The channel changes and some local news reporter, looks like Tom Holloway’s girl, is spouting out something about football season. Calling out all the dates and locations of the games and where to buy tickets beforehand. Hopper sighs and switches off the TV with the remote when he hears soft footsteps coming from the hall.

Joyce comes around the corner, still in her sweater and wool pajama pants, bleary eyed and confused with her arms crossed over her chest. She blinks a few times at him and glances at the tv.

“What’re you doing?,“ she asks quietly.

He shrugs his shoulders. “Couldn’t sleep. Didn’t want to wake you.”

She grins lazily and moves to take a seat beside him. “You know I wake up when you leave the bed.”

He smirks back. How could he forget the years he’s spent being sassed about _Jim Hopper, you know I can’t sleep until you’re in this bed_. He’s heard it for nearly thirty years and yet he never grows sick of it.

It started when they got married, and carried on to when Jonathan was born, then Will and El. Joyce has said it with a smile on her face and other times tears streaming down her cheeks. Said it while pushing him into an empty bed and said it while squishing their kids between them.

She’s said a lot of things that have the same meaning as _I love you_, and Hopper remembers all of them with fondness and love in his heart. Now is absolutely no different.

“You know I know,” he replies and pulls her closer to him.

Joyce lays her head on his naked shoulder and sighs. She’s obviously still tired and drowsy, but she can’t go back to bed now. Almost 6:30 and she has to get ready before busy parents of Hawkins start dropping off their kids at their house.

“You want any breakfast?,” she asks while wrapping her arms around his considerable larger one.

“Nah. I think some coffee and a slice of that custard pie will do.”

“Jim, that’s breakfast.”

Hopper chuckles and kisses the top of her head. “True, but it’s pretty small.”

He pats her thigh before detangling himself from her and walking into the kitchen. He feels her eyes on him as he moves to gather his things to start the coffee machine. Feels her presence before he hears her beside him.

“You going on some kind of diet?”

He shakes his head and turns to face her. “I’ve got lunch with the twins. Don’t want to spoil it with a full stomach from breakfast.”

Will and El decided to take a spontaneous trip to Los Angeles a week after Mike proposed. El said she felt the need to do something drastic before settling down, and while Hopper is happy she didn’t take to getting a tattoo or piercing, a trip across the country wasn’t what he was expecting. They’re finally coming home after nearly two weeks of being away.

Hopper imagines El will be excited to see Mike again after being away from him. There's a running joke between them that she can’t be away from him longer than two days. She’s definitely proved them wrong.

Will is just going to be happy to be home. Around people he loves and love him back.

“I know they’ll be happy to see you,” Joyce says as he pours two mugs of coffee.

“Will is going to cry when he sees you, though.”

She playfully slaps his shoulder. He’s only half joking, after all. Will is the baby of the group, younger brother and youngest twin, and he’s one hundred percent a mommy’s boy.

Just as Hopper goes to lift the mug to his lips, the wall phone begins to ring. He scoffs as he reaches for it.

“Jim, I think you need to get down here quick.”

It’s Flo. She’s always the opener for the station.

“Why?,” he replies, growing increasingly concerned.

“Pastor Ellis called as soon as I got in the door. He said he found a photograph in one of the offering bowls in the church on Cornwallis,” she says over the phone in her nonchalant voice. “He’s bringing it up to the station now.”

Hopper frowns. Another picture found in a seemingly random place. Somebody doesn’t know when to let the joke die.

“Alright. I’ll, uh. I’ll be there in a little bit.”

He hangs up the phone and turns back to Joyce. She nods her head because she knows, their house gets more early phone calls then she’d like to admit. 

Hopper kisses her before walking to their room to change into his work uniform, all the while he can’t help but shake the feeling that something bad is just on the horizon.

_7:48 AM_

Pastor Ellis is a balding man with gentle face and kind eyes. He’s dressed in his black suit with the white collar, and his eyes are distracted. He’s uncomfortable in the chair in front of Hopper’s desk, even more so with officers Harrington and Hargrove hovering at the door.

He agreed to answer a few questions, but he didn’t think he would be cornered by the police chief and two of his officers.

“Joan Horne happen to attend the church by any chance?,” Hopper asks while holding out a photo of the girl, courtesy of Diane Horne.

Pastor Ellis leans forward a little and adjusts his glasses before shaking his head. “That Diane Horne’s girl, she doesn’t go to my services.”

Hopper sighs and nods. He’s desperately trying to connect the two cases because he has no leads on either. He just wants them to have some sort of backbone so he can solve them and be done.

Hargrove gives him a tired but knowing look. He and Harrington are also working tirelessly on the Joan Horne case, but to no avail.

“Anyone in the service seem standoffish? Someone you might suspect of this?,” Hoper tries, already feeling defeated.

Pastor Ellis shakes his head again, so Hopper groans. The questioning isn’t getting any of them anywhere. He’s wasting his breath.

He waves his hand at Hargrove and Harrington, they get the signal and step out of the office. Hopper stands and makes a nod with his head.

“Thank you, Pastor Ellis. Appreciate you stopping by,“ he sighs. “I’ll get back to you if we figure anything out.”

Hopper shows him out the door and to his car and waves him off. He lets his shoulders drop when the pastor is out of sight. Turns to go back inside.

He goes straight back to his office and groans when he sits down. Another day, another bullshit.

He thinks he might have something to go off of if the employee at _RadioShack_ had been able to give him a name. Unfortunately for him, they apparently don’t sell that certain model of Polaroids. Newest model out and aren't even being sold around Hawkins yet.

That makes a missing girl with no leads, and two weird photographs, also with no leads. 

Perfect.

He flips the photo over in his hand and rereads the caption. _God made you perfect for me_. These things get weirder and weirder.

There’s a knock at his door. Hopper looks up to see Harrington there, awkward as ever. 

“Anything me and Hargrove can do for you?”

Hopper sighs and shakes his head. “Afraid not. I appreciate it though.”

With that, Harrington steps out and returns to his desk, and Hoper lowers his head as he feels an oncoming headache.

It’s going to be a long day.

_1:48 PM_

Despite not being kids anymore, El and Will feel extraordinarily small as Hopper hugs them. Will to his right, El to his left. They smile and laugh as he squeezes them harder than necessary.

He holds them a little longer, trying to figure out how they’ve grown up so fast and where the time has gone. But, the smell of the food El brought in is delicious and it makes his belly grumble.

“Let’s eat,” Will says with a smile that looks so much like Joyce.

El agrees and unwraps the three take-out boxes and sets them down. One on Hopper’s side, two on her side. Lays the napkins, and plastic utensils in the middle, and the straws beside their foam cup drinks.

They all sit down and unbox their food. _Lou-Ann’s_ platters are the best in town, and El’s favorite place. Will doesn’t seem to be too upset about it either.

He watches them get their own food ready and he can’t help but notice their clothes. Their usual jeans, but their shirts are obvious tourist shirts. _Los Angeles, 1991_ is printed across their chests in bold rainbow colors and psychedelic font.

“So,” Hopper starts and digs his fork into his steamy collard greens. “How was Los Angeles?”

El takes a sip of her drink and nods. “It was beautiful. Nothing like anything we’re used to.”

“Amazing, dad. It was awesome,” Will adds.

Hopper nods and smiles at that. He’s glad they had a good time and enjoyed themselves. Especially Will. He looks like he’s never been happier.

El drops her fork in her green beans and reaches under her chair. She grabs her purse, one of Joyce’s old ones that El used to play dress up with, and pulls out a stack of paper clipped pictures. Takes off the paperclip and holds them out in front of her dad.

Hopper takes them as El says, “We took a lot of pictures to show you and mom.”

He flips through them and smiles at every new photo. Picture of them below the Hollywood sign. One of them in a Chinese themed restaurant. Another on the beach, the caption below is says _Venice Beach, 1991_.

One, however, stands out. It’s Will and some stranger. The person had a straight nose and broad brow, square glasses and short curly hair.

“Who’s this?”

He holds the picture out in front of them and Will almost chokes on his food. El snickers.

“That’s Alexei,” she confirms and Will hits her shoulder.

Hopper glances between the twins and frowns. There’s obviously something there that they’re hiding, or at least not wanting to outright say. 

“Am I missing something?”

Will blushes and shakes his head, but El smirks and pushes at his shoulder gently. He shakes his head furiously when she makes a gesture to Hopper, paling a little. Twin bickering, as usual.

They start whispering between each other and slowly get louder. Hopper is about to ask them what’s going on when El nearly shouts, “It’s Will’s boyfriend!”

“Shut up!,” Will yells back and goes to shove her again.

“Hey!,” Hopper intervenes, standing from behind his desk to separate them if necessary. “Stop fighting, now. You’re both too old to be doing that.”

The twins settle down but glare at each other. They’re just like Joyce, both chill and hot headed at the same time. Too much like each other for their own good.

Will picks at his food to avoid Hopper’s questioning look, and El sips at her foam cup. Both quiet suddenly. Avoiding him.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Will says quietly, still not looking Hopper in the eyes. “I mean, we went on a few dates while we were in Los Angeles but nothing serious.”

“Will gave him his apartment address,” El adds.

Hopper sighs and puts his face in his hands, resigning himself to knowing his food will probably go cold before he can properly eat. His son has a _not_ boyfriend, but he gave this guy his address. Great.

“Before you get mad,” Will says to him while keeping his voice soft, “understand that it’s different out there, dad. It’s so much different.”

Hopper looks up to see the stars in Will’s eyes as he talks about Los Angeles. He looks like he’s talking about Heaven.

“How different?”

“People are so much more accepting out there than they are here. No one pointed or stared or said anything,” Will rushes out. “It felt... amazing to not have to hide.”

Hide. Yeah, he’s had to hide since he was barely fourteen years old and some punks thought it would be funny to pants the awkward gay kid just because it was the _cool thing to do_. Hopper still remembers that and everything that followed Will into high school. 

The name calling and the shoves in the hallway. The fights. The hassling. The _assault_. God, Hopper doesn’t ever want to be reminded of how he and Powell found Will in the boy’s locker room that day.

“How old is he?,” Hopper asks while starting to dig around in his plate.

Will hesitates for a moment. “He’s thirty.”

The mouthful of chicken is almost spits out as Hopper is taken off guard. He coughs and hits his chest a few times while El stands to pat his back. He takes a sip of his drink to wash it all down before staring at Will with wide eyes.

“Thirty?!”

“Look, I know, okay? He’s ten years older than me, but he really doesn’t seem like it,” Will reasons.

El nods before adding, “He’s from Russia, too.”

Oh, God. Will is dating a thirty year old man from Russia. Hopper thinks his head is going to explode.

“Just give him a chance. We’re going to write letters and call each other before anything get serious, okay?,” Will begs and leans forward to put his hand on Hopper’s arm. “Do it for me, please.”

Hopper sighs. He knows how difficult it’s been for Will to accept who he is, even if his parents and siblings and friends support him, and it’s important to him to find someone he can be with. He hasn’t found anyone around here, but he found this Alexei guy in California. It could be worse.

“Alright, fine,“ Hopper sighs. “I’ll give him a chance. But, if he does anything stupid, I won’t hesitate to kill him.”

Will and El laugh at him before they start talking about the wedding in a few months. El is already looking at dresses. Already knows where she wants it.

Hopper just listens and nods along while enjoying his food and the company of his two youngest kids. Happy for them to be home.

_10:48 PM_

Billy’s back is protesting while he’s laying on the living room couch with a lap full of Max and her mouth on his. He’s still in his work clothes by his blue shirt is unbuttoned and his white tank top is pushed half way up his stomach. Max is in some panties that he hasn’t seen in a while and her usual bed shirt.

She apparently had no trouble putting Zeppelin down before Billy got home from work, and had time to cook his nice small meal before attacking him. Not that he minds, he hasn’t been able to touch her in weeks. He does, however, wish to move this coupling to their bedroom so they’ll be more comfortable.

She’s grinding down on his crotch, and the friction against his hard cock feels good. He moves his hand from her hips to her panties and he groans in her mouth when he feels a wet patch. She’s only been on him a few minutes and she’s already so soaked.

Billy sits up and she takes the opportunity to strip him out of his shirt and wife beater, throws them on the floor. She moans when she gets to touch warm bronzed skin. His muscles ripple under his skin and he’s so firm. That makes her cling even more to him.

“Max,” he tries to say between her urgent kisses. “Baby, wait.”

“Why?”

Her mouth is red and swollen and she’s breathless. Her hands are moving up his torso to grip his broad shoulders.

“I want to go to the bed, I don’t want the couch to smell like sex,” Billy tells her and rubs his hands up her thighs.

Max nods so he plants his feet on the floor and lifts them both up. She wraps her legs around his waist and holds on to his shoulders. He grabs her ass and takes them down the hall to their bedroom.

Her mouth is on his in an instant, but he pulls away to mumble, “Got to be quiet, don’t want to wake up Zepp.”

She laughs and dives in again for more deep and long kisses, the ones she only gets when he feels up to it and isn’t tired. Ones that make spit leak down the corners of her mouth. Make her desperate for more.

Billy makes it to their room and gently kicks the door almost closed before he drops her on the bed. He unbuckles his belt and shoves his pants down and then pulls Max’s shirt off of her. Her tits are perfect and ample, and he leans down to get his mouth on them.

She pulls at his hair before breathless saying, “I didn’t ask you how was work today.”

He laughs against her skin. “It was alright.”

She nods and then gasps when Billy takes one of her nipples in his mouth. One of his hands dip low to rub her through her panties and she bucks into his hand. Desperate and soaked.

“Anything new on the missing girl?,” Max asks when he strips out of his boxers and moves down her body to take off her panties.

Billy kisses her and mumbles _no_ against her lips before thrusting in one hard motion. She moans and wraps her legs around his waist, one hand going to his hair and the other moving down to rub her clit. Happy to finally have him like this again.

He moans against her shoulder and his hips snap hard into her, the sound of skin on skin echoing in their otherwise quiet house. Max feels good and she’s pretty as she quietly moans and gasps in his ear, begs him for more of whatever he’ll give her. Even her hand tugging his hair sends sparks down his spine.

She doesn’t ask anymore about work while they’re doing it, and the only time she’s saying coherent words is when she feels herself starting to clench up and she knows he won’t last, either. 

“_Billy_,” she chokes out. “Billy, you’ve got to pull out.”

He groans and keeps fucking her until she cums and kisses her hard so she won’t wake up the baby. She stops convulsing and trembling and he pulls out just in time to jerk himself off on her stomach. His hips stutter a few times before he stills.

He flops down beside her on the bed and sighs. “Wish you would’ve told me we’re out of condoms. I would’ve stopped by and got some.”

Max rolls over to kiss him. “I didn’t think about it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

They lay there for a few more minutes, trying to catch their breaths, before he sits up and pats her thigh. She takes his hand and pulls herself up. Yawns and looks down at the semen on her stomach.

“We need to shower.”

“Yeah,” Max agrees. “I should probably check on Zeppelin before we do.”

He nods and stands and slips on his boxers, turns to their dresser to gather some clothes for them. Takes them to their bathroom and sets it on the counter. Turns on the shower to heat up. 

Billy goes back to the bedroom to pick up his work clothes when Max, dressed only in her panties, stops him. 

“So, there really is nothing new on Joan Horne?”

Her eyes are curious and concerned, completely opposite of just moments ago. They’re soft and wide and he can’t hide from them. Not when she looks at him like that.

“We’re working on it,” he tells her before rubbing his thumb over her cheek. “We’re gonna find her, Max. I know we will.”

She nods and closes her eyes for a moment. “Her dad came in today to pick up an order, and he asked me if you guys were still looking. Said that the girls mom hasn’t ate in almost a week.”

Billy frowns at that. Diane Horne hasn’t ate in almost a week? Is this bothering her to the point of starvation? He’s got to tell Hopper first thing in the morning.

“I’ll tell Hop,” he promises her. “We’ll stop by and check on them in the morning.”

With that, Max nods and head toward Zeppelin’s nursery to check on him before they hop in the shower. 

Usually, he would focus on her ass, the sway of her hips as she walks. Her long pale legs and adorable feet. Not tonight, though. 

All he can think about is Joan Horne and the slowly dying faith of her mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of an experiment. The future of this fic depends on the response I get.
> 
> Good? Bad? Makes you want to stab your eyes out? (Probably)
> 
> Let me know in the comments! I love hearing from you guys! Please make sure to leave love and support in the comments and check out my tumblr @themundaneweirdo!
> 
> If you want to contact me speedy quick and get insight to the upcoming updates for the series, don’t be afraid to drop an ask in my askbox on Tumblr!
> 
> Join my Discord to share ideas and talk to me, along with other Maygrove shippers! https://discord.gg/Ys8HNpX
> 
> Comments are my fuel, so fill me up!


	4. Friday, September 27, 1991

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s still an early morning fog settling over the grass as Hopper watches a few hundred middle schoolers struggle to get back on their respective buses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are we feeling? I hope everyone is enjoying the fic so far! If I get good feedback, there might possibly be a sequel in the works.
> 
> Maybe.

_8:35 AM_

There’s still an early morning fog settling over the grass as Hopper watches a few hundred middle schoolers struggle to get back on their respective buses. Some of the kids look excited to be taken back home, and other looks as though they’re one bad day from breaking down. That’s understandable as the towns not been doing too good lately.

Another photo was found, but this time, Hopper didn’t hesitate to jump into action. It was found taped to one of the back entrances of the school, leading to the recess field. Just as simple and eerie as the last two, but it’s the fact that it was at what is supposed to be a safe place for children.

Hopper can feel the photo burning a hole in his back pocket. The caption even more unsettling than he’d like to admit out loud.

_Your voice is soft and sweet_.

This case has rubbed him the wrong way since the first picture showed up, but now, he can’t ignore it or hide it behind dedication to other cases. This needs to be fixed, and it needs to be fixed soon. He doesn’t want to find out what will happen if it isn’t solved.

Hargrove is walking toward him, back turned to the high school across the street from the middle school. He looks about ten years older than what he is, but that must be the urgency of this case getting to him, too. He takes off his sunglasses and puts them in his shirt pocket just before he’s in talking distance.

“The high school will be dismissed as soon as the middle school buses depart,” he tells Hopper while he pinches his nose bridge. “Harrington is in there talking to the principal.”

Hopper clasps his on the shoulder and gives him a sturdy look. “You alright there, son?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Zeppelin didn’t go to sleep until about five this morning, is all. Didn’t get a whole lot of sleep with two little feet in my face.”

Even with the dark situation at hand, Hopper can’t help but chuckle. He remembers those days when his own children were little hellions. He sure doesn’t miss it, though.

“I need you as sharp as a whip right now, Hargrove,” he says firmly, no room for argument. “The town needs its law enforcement.”

Hargrove nods without protest.

Harrington is coming down the road where the two schools meet. He’s got a ring of keys in his hand and he offers it to Hopper when he joins them. 

“That’s the keys to all the janitors closets. Both schools,” Harrington says when Hopper looks at him strange.

The oldest police Chief nods and glances back down at the middle school. They’re almost all packed onto the buses. All they have to do is wait for the buses to depart and the high school students to head home.

“Can’t go in either school until every child is off the property,” Hopper sighs. “So until then, tell me exactly what we have.”

He watches Harrington stutter for a moment before straightening up. “We have three photographs, same camera model, all of which have been found in what seems to be random places.”

“And,” Hargrove adds, “every picture has the same hand written captions. We don’t have much, Hop.”

That makes Hopper chuckle to himself. True, they may not have much when it comes to the photos, but the school grounds have something they can use. Something they haven’t been able to find anywhere else.

He clears his throat and points back to the high school, and both of his deputies turn to look. They’re lost for a moment before Hargrove zones in and hits Harrington’s shoulder to show him exactly where to look.

_Security cameras_.

“That’s our only hope at the moment,” Hopper says as he notices high school students going to their vehicles. 

The buses are already on their way to drop off the middle school children. The high school students are high tailing it out of the parking lot without so much as a wave to their police force. They’re probably still pisses that even though they’re out of school for the remainder of the day, they’re on house arrest.

Hopper is pretty sure he heard one of the delinquents shout _fuck you!_ to he and his officers as they drove by. Wouldn’t shock him if Hargrove happened to get a really good glance at the persons tag.

“Alright,“ Hopper sighs and digs the picture out of his back pocket. “Hart is going to be helping you two look through the middle school. Callahan and Powell will be with me looking through the high school.”

Hargrove nods and takes the picture, hands it to Harrington. “You sure you want Hart to be with us? I ain’t going looking for him if he gets lost in the hallways.”

“He’ll be fine,” Hopper nods. “Radio me when you’re done over there and we’ll look at the security cameras.”

With that, he starts up toward the high school as police car parks. Callahan and Powell get out the front, and then Hart climbs out the back. Clumsy and uncoordinated.

Hargrove and Harrington are already halfway to the middle school when they hear Hart coming up being them.

They’d better find something today or this is all for nothing.

_9:14 AM_

The middle school is ordinary enough to Billy’s eyes. He didn’t attend school here, he was well into high school when he first moved to Hawkins. He was lucky if the slowly crumbling school house is any indication.

The paint on the walls are peeling and the cork boards are looking a little rotten. Even the glass boxes containing trophies and awards are little foggy and nasty looking. A real health concern in his opinion, and he’ll be sure to tell Hopper about it.

Harrington looks like he’s reliving his younger days. His eyes are glossy and filled with wonder, a small smile on his mouth. Even with the situation at hand, he manages to make light.

“Why you lookin’ so dumb, Harrington?”

Leave it to Officer Hart to ruin any small moment of peace and quiet.

Harrington shrugs his shoulders and lowers his head, obviously broken out of his trance like state. “Just thinking about the good ole days.”

His body language changes, and it makes Hargrove want to reach back and smack the Hell out of Hart. He was having a good time just reminiscing about his days spent at Hawkins Middle School, easing his mind in case things really hit the fan while they search the school.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Hart says and lays one arm over his shoulders like Harrington didn’t kick his ass back in high school. “This is where me and Carol started screwing around.”

That makes Harrington shrug off his shoulder as the round a corner, coming to the sixth grade hallway. He steps away and ahead so he’s in front of Hargrove, away from Hart. He can’t be blamed.

“That’s not what I was meaning, but sure,” he says, annoyance creeping into his voice.

Hart starts rambling off about all the nasty shit he and Carol did back when they attended middle school, and it makes Hargrove’s stomach turn. It’s disgusting thinking about a couple of thirteen year olds going at it like rabbits. Disgusting to even think about Hart doing anything with his clothes off.

Hargrove isn’t listening as they come back up to the entrance of the sixth grade hallway. They’ve checked each room and found nothing, not even in the janitors closet. On to the next hallway.

He really isn’t paying either of his companions any mind until Hart oversteps himself.

“You’ve always liked ‘em young, Hargrove?”

Hargrove turns sharply and before he can his hands on him, Harrington standing between them with his hands on their chests. He looks back and forth between them, almost like he’s considering his options. He doesn’t have many, it’s either he lets Hargrove wipe the floor with his face or he drags them out to Hopper so he can kick both their asses.

“Why don’t you go check out the eighth grade hallway?,“ he says to Hargrove, his voice a little strained from having to hold back a whole one hundred and eighty pounds of muscle with one arm. “Me and Hart will get the seventh grade, okay?”

He isn’t giving him much of a choice, so he stares Hart down for a moment before giving way and heading straight for the right grade hallway. He can hear Harrington telling the dumbass officer something about _you better be lucky he didn’t kick your ass_. And, honestly, Harrington is right.

If he hadn’t of been there, Hargrove has no doubt he would’ve kicked Hart’s ass from one end of the school to the other, the search be damned. He’s not about to let some low life like Tommy fucking Hart talk down to him. Not then, not now, not ever.

He comes to the entrance of the eight grade hallway and he can’t shake off Hart’s comment. Hargrove walks down the hall, checking each room for anything weird, and he thinks about how years ago, Max was down this exact hallway. How much younger she is than him. 

Yeah, their parents were married at some point, but that didn’t last long. They divorced soon after his senior year, and he went straight to Indianapolis for police academy. Came back almost three years later to find Max and her mom were still around.

The only thing that has changed was how he looked at Max. She wasn’t his step-sister anymore, she didn’t annoy him in a sibling type of way like she used to, but she was a beautiful and single seventeen year old. He didn’t feel too bad when he asked Susan if he could take her daughter on a date. 

He also didn’t feel bad when she moved into his house a year later, or when she found out she was pregnant just a little bit before her nineteenth birthday. Still didn’t feel bad when they got married in a courthouse.

He sure as Hell doesn’t feel bad now.

Hargrove sighs and glances around the place before turning on his heels. He’s about to go back down the hallway when the lockers catch his eyes. One of them is bashed in.

He pulls the door open, and feels his breath hitch. There’s a note in the locker. He grabs it and reads it carefully, his stomach turning awfully.

_Do you see it yet?_

He grabs his shoulder mic and radios Hopper, his heart thumping because they might’ve finally found something.

_11:49 AM_

Hawkins seems to be pretty empty as Hargrove drives down Main Street. Most of the stores have closed up early since the schools were dismissed earlier this morning, and parents had to hurry home. It’s a ghost town.

He and Harrington are heading to the other side of town, near Greenleaf, to check on a call the station got. Hopper sent them out because Hart was seriously beginning to piss Hargrove off. Doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up with the _young_ and _step-sister_ jokes.

Harrington is quiet beside him, looking out the side window as they fly by. He hasn’t made so much as a peep since they first left the middle school. Didn’t say anything when they returned to the station hours ago, and is apparently too scared to open his mouth now. 

Hargrove turns on Sapp Road and glances at his partner. “You okay?”

Harrington jolts a little and looks back at him before nodding. He still doesn’t speak or even attempt to, so whatever is on his mind must be that bad. Might even be _too_ bad to talk about.

“You know you can talk to me, right?,” Hargrove tried once more.

Harrington huffs at that. “I know.”

He goes quiet again, looking out the window when they turn down another road. Bites his lip and scrubs his hand down his face. 

He shakes his head and shuts his eyes. “I just... I don’t like what Hart said to you back at the school.”

That makes Hargrove smirk. Of course, he’s got all worked up about Hart’s sly comment. He’s ever the protector.

“It’s fine, man.”

It’s really not, but he’s not going to say that in front of Harrington. Yeah, it made him want to bust Hart in his face, but it also made him want to cry. He’s so damn sentimental about his wife.

Plus, Hart has no room to talk. Hargrove’s marriage might not be the most common, but at least he doesn’t cheat on Max. He’s pretty sure Carol knows, he just doesn’t think she cares because she’s just the same.

“You’re a strong man for not knocking his lights out,” Harrington says with a small grimace. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if he’d said something about Robin.”

Hargrove chuckles as he comes up to a red light. “You’re a good man for holding me back.” 

“I’m used to it. Saved your ass several times back in high school.”

That makes both of them laugh, because it’s true, he’s got Hargrove’s ass out of trouble more times than he can count on his fingers. Those days of being a pair of reckless high school jocks are far behind them, and it’s a little funny to think about how they use to have the law called on them at parties. They’re the law now.

The radio going static interrupts their laughter as Hopper’s voice comes in loud and clear.

_“Hargrove, Harrington. Do you copy? Over.”_

Harrington grabs the mic and clicks the side button. “Yes, sir, we copy. Over.”

_”Where are you? Over.”_

Harrington looks around and stops a street sign. “We’re about five minutes from Greenleaf. Over.”

There’s rustling on the other end and then Hopper comes in again. _”Murray Bauman gave me a call back, I gave him whatever information we have. Over.”_

Murray Bauman is one of Hopper’s oldest friends, and one of the best detectives in his opinion. He gave him a call about the case to get some outsiders input. Must be some good input because Hopper never radios out to them.

“Go ahead. Over.”

_”Murray thinks the person is a local. They know how to hide in the town, someone that everyone knows and trusts, blends in too easily. Might seem to be a very easy going person to the average eye. Over.”_

Hargrove takes the mic and keeps one hand on the steering wheel. “So, you mean to tell us, we’re looking for some goody guy with a clean record? Over.”

_”It looks like it,”_ Hopper sighs over the radio. _”Just wanted you two to be updated. Radio back when you’re done with the call from Greenleaf. Over and out.”_

With that, Hargrove puts the mic back on the hook just before they pull into a certain yard on Greenleaf. They hop out of the car with pep in their step, ready to get back to the station and dive back into the case.

_10:08 PM_

Max’s arm is warm where she’s got a hold on Billy, her chest pressed to his back and her leg flung over his hip. She’s like a little monkey tangled up in the sheets with him, clinging to him as much as she can. He doesn’t mind, she’s warm and soft.

Zeppelin is sleeping in his crib tonight. They’ve got the bed to themselves, and yet, they still manage to be on top of each other.

Gently, as not to crush her, Billy untangles her arm and leg from around him and turns over so he’s facing her. Even in the darkness of their bedroom, he can see Max’s eyes opening a little as their positions have changed. She makes a small noise before putting her arm and leg back where they were, and curls up to him again.

He smiles at her and kisses her forehead. He lets his lips linger for a little bit longer than necessary just because he wants to. Lets his right arm wrap around her.

“I love you,“ he says quietly, not expecting any reply as she’s probably already asleep again.

He’s surprised when he hears her mumble against his throat. “I love you, too.”

Billy smiles again and pulls her so close, so close that he feels her slowly come alive. Max shifts slightly in his hold and lean back to look at his face, the arm around him moving so she can cup his jaw with her hand. Holding him still.

She frowns at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Billy.”

He sighs and lets his head rest on the pillow. He knows what’s bothering him, it’s bothered him all day. He just doesn’t want to say anything to her because it’ll upset her, too.

Max makes him look at her before asking again. “What’s wrong?”

Billy stares at her a moment. Her delicate nose and gorgeous eyes, sweet lips and perfectly shaped eyebrows. Her hair is falling over her naked shoulder, partially covering her chest.

“It’s really nothing, baby,” he tries to make it sound like he isn’t bothered. “Just something Tommy said today.”

“What did he say?”

She’s so close that her breath is fanning over his face. Warm and minty. Comforting.

“Asked if I’ve _always liked ‘em young_,” he says quietly, avoiding her eyes. “And, it got me thinking.”

Max’s hand goes to his cheek then, stroking softly. Her touch is gentle and warm, and he closes his eyes. Leans into her hand seeking more comfort.

“What are you thinking about, Billy?,” she asks just as quiet.

He feels so damn guilty because he tied her down so young, she didn’t get to go what all her friends got to do. They were out partying and having fun. And, what was Max doing? She was at home taking care of her newborn son.

It could just be Tommy’s comment getting to him, but when he thinks about it, Billy really did rob Max of having a normal life.

“Do you regret this?”

Her hand stops and even with his eyes closed, he can feel her own on him. He just imagine it, her mouth open and her eyes hard. Shocked silent and quietly hurt.

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she swipes her thumb under his eye to catch a tear he didn’t he even know had escaped. 

“Billy,” she sighs. “I don’t regret anything. Not one thing.”

He blinks his eyes open, blurry with tears. She’s smiling sweetly at him and she’s stroking his stubbly cheek again. She’s too good to him.

He swallows the emotion coming up his throat. “You don’t regret me?”

“No,” she says right away, not one ounce of doubt in her voice. “I don’t regret you because I love you so, _so_ much.”

“I love you more.”

Max chuckles at that. “Doubtful.”

He smiles. She wipes his eyes again before kissing him softly, mumbling _I love you_ once more to him. He sighs and lets his eyes drop again, tired and drained.

Max wraps her arms around him and pulls the covers up around them, and the last thing Billy remembers before he slips into sleep is how nice she smells, and how good it feels to be loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, a _maybe_ sequel may come from this. 
> 
> Good? Bad? Makes you want to stab your eyes out? (Probably)
> 
> Let me know in the comments! I love hearing from you guys! Please make sure to leave love and support in the comments and check out my tumblr @themundaneweirdo!
> 
> If you want to contact me speedy quick and get insight to the upcoming updates for the series, don’t be afraid to drop an ask in my askbox on Tumblr!
> 
> Join my Discord to share ideas and talk to me, along with other Maygrove shippers! https://discord.gg/Ys8HNpX
> 
> Comments are my fuel, so fill me up!

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of an experiment. The future of this fic depends on the response I get.
> 
> Good? Bad? Makes you want to stab your eyes out? (Probably)
> 
> Let me know in the comments! I love hearing from you guys! Please make sure to leave love and support in the comments and check out my tumblr @themundaneweirdo!
> 
> If you want to contact me speedy quick and get insight to the upcoming updates for the series, don’t be afraid to drop an ask in my askbox on Tumblr!
> 
> Join my Discord to share ideas and talk to me, along with other Maygrove shippers! https://discord.gg/Ys8HNpX
> 
> Comments are my fuel, so fill me up!


End file.
